Silly Ideas
by soda-rebel
Summary: We all have silly ideas, some sillier than others.


**This is hella old and I wanted to post it so it wouldn't rot in my computer without ever seeing the light.**

Slam.

"Where were you?" Arthur could hear the hint of anger in Alfred's tone. It was almost impossible to ignore now, he could almost always detect it. Furrowing his brows, he attempted to sink deeper into the sofa. Maybe if it just swallowed him up…

"Hey!" Alfred walked over to where his boyfriend lay to glare down at the relaxed blonde. "I asked where you were. I called ten times already!"

Sighing, Arthur spoke, "I already told you, twice before I left for work, that I would be back late and would miss our date." He shifted to face the bewildered blonde, merely inches away from the dark blue frame of glasses that separated them. "You know, you aren't always the best listener. I even wrote a note for you, Alfred. I sent you an email. But whenever something doesn't go your way, it's my fault isn't it?" At the end of his sentence, Arthur noticed just how loud he was getting.

"I never said it was your fault!" Exasperated, Alfred backed away to sit on a nearby comforter, his head in his hands. When he was ready to speak again, he spoke slowly, emphasizing each word. "You told me all that when I was sleepy, and I never found a note, _and_ I never check my email. You should know that by now. Why didn't you answer your phone."

"It died." Tossing the phone to Alfred, he saw it was indeed dead.

"Well, why didn't you charge it? I feel like you did this on purpose… What were you doing? Let me guess, you're seeing that coworker you have. Francis? Or is it you 'good friend' Toni?"

"What? No!" Arthur scowled at the accusation, bunching the couch into his fist as he tried his hardest not to hit Alfred for what would have been the twentieth fight that month.

Alfred ignored his protest. "I bet you'd do that, wouldn't you. I bet you'd just _love_ to get away from me! You always say how you're miserable, how you hate it here. Of course, you'd fuck off with them!"

Arthur wanted badly to shut up, or for Alfred to shut up. But that didn't happen, so he made no attempt to quiet himself. "It's always this accusation, that accusation. 'You don't look good in blue' or 'You shouldn't go out' or even fucking 'Just fuck back off to England'! You know what, I would love to. Because right now, I doubt you love me. Do you want me to leave? I'll leave! Just tell me, 'yes' or 'no'?"

Alfred got up and left the room without a word while Arthur waited for his decision. After ten minutes of being alone, he came to the conclusion that the silence was a definite yes. He grabbed the few belongings he had in the apartment and shoved them into a small backpack from his late college days. He didn't worry about bothering his former boyfriend with his packing. They hadn't slept in the same room in months.

"Where are you going?" Alfred asked from the hallway, eyeing the bag.

"Away. It's clear you don't want or need me here Jones," not taking a break from pulling personal belongings from shelves and drawers.

"Last name basis, huh?" He leaned into the doorframe, staring at the ceiling. "One last smoke before you go?"

They had spent about an hour on the porch lighting cigarettes in silence. Together they almost made it through a packet. A discarded bowl from last week's breakfast served as an ashtray. Arthur pitied whoever would have to clean the grotesque mess that was in the bowl. Whatever leftovers had remained were already lumpy and possibly moldy. It was hard to tell though from the small mounds of ash that staggered itself in abysmal mountains.

"Where did we go wrong Alfred?"

"Dunno. We kind of just...gave up. Lost the spark. That sort of shit," Alfred huffed. It was true. And yet, they did nothing to stop their decline.

"I want to say we declined in August. I refused to speak to you, slept on the couch, and we never recovered." Why, why hadn't they talked about this?

"I did love you, ya know."

"I know. I used to love you as well Alfred."

"Ya, ya I know. We screwed this up, huh?"

"Mm. I remember when we used to be the most obnoxious lovers. You'd wake me up with the gentlest of kisses," Arthur sighed.

Alfred smiled at the thought. "And you'd shove me back playfully, but I'd know it was a joke and then you'd play with my hair a bit. I really miss that." But that was a dead memory. Their relationship was more like the disgusting ash-bowl than the easy smoke that danced in the wind.

"We can't go back." And it hurt for Arthur to realize it was true.

"I know. You should probably go before you change your mind. This is the fifth time it's happened, Kirk."

"It's Kirkland."

"Could've been Jones."

For a moment, Arthur laughed. It was dry and forced and if Alfred had dared to look, he would have seen Arthur was on the edge of tears. "If you told me that two years ago, I would've said yes. But now that I see this mess? This absolute hellhole? I'm glad I didn't."

"Really?"

"Yes."

And with Alfred left hanging on an unreciprocated kiss, Arthur walked out the door. He knew he left his phone, but it was a shitty flip phone anyways and would be easily replaceable. And this meant they would never have to talk ever again. Despite a small ache in his heart and the clenching pain in his stomach, Arthur felt just the slightest bit...free.

"Arthur Jones….What an idiotic idea that would've been."


End file.
